Rei Hikaru's Challenges
by Angelblood666
Summary: MORE CHALLENGES! They just keep on coming! These are in the Hey Arnold Creative Ideas group on Fb, but this time posted by Rei-Hikaru on DeviantArt. Will probably just consist of drabbles, but who knows? Rating might change.
1. That Old Movie

**Challenge: That Old Movie**

Phil dug into another box in the attic, still looking for the album of pictures from his wedding with Gertie, dust spraying into his face and into his mouth and nose. He coughed a few times, waving the dust away. He pulled out an old album, also covered in dust and cobwebs from the years.

He blew lightly onto it, almost making the book look new again. He opened it up and flipped through the pages, checking for any spiders or silverfish within the bind and pages when a movie reel fell out of the back of the album.

"Well, what do we have here?" questioned Phil as he bent down and picked up the old reel, seeing the writing on it. He turned it over, not able to remember what was on it or when it was made. He found what he was looking for on the back.

It read, _Phil proposes to Gertie_. Phil smiled, the fond memories revisiting him after so long. He waved the reel back and forth, wondering if the images still were visible. He knew where the old player was in the storage closet. Or was it in the basement?

He shook his head, taking the tape downstairs to show Gertie and Arnold, the album under his arm as he exited.


	2. A Perfect Combination

**Challenge: A Perfect Combination**

"All righty then, where did I put those bananas? Maybe they are in here" slurred Miriam as she poked around the cabinets and drawers, looking for her fruit. She found them on the countertop and taking a couple, she placed them next to her other ingredients and her blender.

One bottle of vodka, some strawberries, her bananas, and some ice were ready and waiting to be mixed. She slowly added her ingredients and pureed them in the blender, the whir of the machine filling her ears and making her salivate at the soon arrival of her concoction. The scent of alcohol lingered, making her already feel intoxicated. After a moment she turned off the machine, resting her face in her hand as it slowed down and quieted when the front door opened.

Helga entered the house, her clothes, hair, and backpack dripping from the downpour that had happened as she walked home. She dropped her bag and entered the kitchen, her face etched with her signature scowl.

"MIRIAM! Did you forget to pick me up from school? AGAIN!?"

Miriam gasped, "Oh, it must have slipped my mind. So silly of me." She giggled softly and turned around to her perfect combination of alcohol and fruit. She lifted her blender and poured it into a glass. Helga stomped over to the counter and to the blender and glass.

In a swipe too fast for Miriam to follow, Helga picked up her smoothie and dumped the contents of the glass and blender into the sink.

Miriam slowly registered what had just happened and then gasped in surprise. But Helga had already gone upstairs without a backwards glance at her. Miriam covered her mouth with her hand and slid to the floor, sobbing at the loss of her smoothie. Sobbing at the fact that she had become dependant on something that only made her life worse and worse by the day.

And she sobbed because she had lost a daughter. She had failed at being a mother. And that meant only one thing anymore. The one thing that made her forget about her pitiful life and choices.

Hopefully there was still enough vodka for another smoothie.


	3. Rainy Sunday

**Challenge: Rainy Sunday**

The rain pounded outside, the sound of it driving Mrs. Vitello out of her deep slumber. Lightning crashed across the sky, startling the woman out of her chair and onto the floor. She blinked and held her head carefully, a headache beginning to form. She silently cursed the rain and rose to her feet, slowly shuffling drowsily toward the front area to check for any customers. She scoffed; her expectation finding a customer at this time of a Sunday evening in the terrible storm was small.

She opened the door and peered inside, not seeing any customers. She sighed, closing the door as thunder rumbled and shook the small flower shop to its foundation. Mrs. Vitello decided to close the shop and head home.

"No one is going to buy anything today. It just wasn't likely," thought Mrs. Vitello to herself. She grabbed a jacket, black with leather on the inside. Her husband had bought it for their anniversary, knowing how she liked to keep in style. She covered her head and ran out the door, keys in hand as she fidgeted with the door locket. A small click was heard as she turned it, signaling that the door was closed.

She smiled to herself, and turned toward the street, walking quickly to her house as the wind and rain assaulted her clothing and exposed skin. Her jacket flapped in the wind, almost flying off of her body, but she held it close and pressed on. The driveway light was on, illuminating her as she walked briskly up it. She pulled out her keys again and inserted a brass one, turning and opening the door as rain clawed at her. The door flew open by a gust of wind and she fell to the floor for the second time.

She got up and slammed the door, almost slipping in the water on the floor. She caught her self on the doorknob and brushed her jacket off of water and looked into the mirror. A middle-aged, dark-haired woman looked back, her prominent nose almost touching the looking-glass as she adjusted her hair and smiled to herself. She took off her jacket and hung it under her husband's coat and hat on the hat stand. She took off her shoes and walked into living room, seeing and hearing the television flicker through commercials. Mr. Vitello's head was seen just over the arm of the couch, not moving.

Mrs. Vitello suddenly flashed forward to a hospital room. She looked around, noticing a few other people were in the room, looking desperate, worried, or lost. She rose as a doctor walked forward, stopping right before her.

"What happened doctor?" asked Mrs. Vitello nervously. The doctor's voice was sullen as he spoke the words that would haunt Mrs. Vitello for the rest of her life.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Vitello, but it seems your husband has experienced a heart attack. He is barely holding on to life and is unconscious." He paused to let the words sink in. Mrs. Vitello sank to the chair, her emotions raging inside. Tears fell down her face as she barely registered the doctor's next words.

"We are hopeful in his recovery, but if he survives he will face challenges to even function on his own again. You were lucky to catch it when you did. Another few hours, and he would've died."

"Lucky?" she thought. She didn't feel lucky. If anything, she felt unfortunate. Terrible thoughts crossed her mind, her husband dying, or not being able to live at their own house, stuck in the hospital for the rest of his life. She felt her vision blurred as more tears fell, and she placed her face in her hands. Sitting there, she hoped for a miracle, one that would save her husband.

She lifted her face to see another scene. Men, women, and children in black were all around her. She looked at her outfit and saw she too was wearing black. She realized she was in the front row of a procession, a black veil over her face. She turned her head, frantically looking for an explanation when one came to her.

She rose as the landscape changed, the people vanishing and instead a grave appearing in front of her. She read the gravestone as more tears flowed down her face. She knelt to the ground and cried softly, occasionally gasping for air as she sobbed on the grave of her husband, flowers blowing lightly in the wind. They were her flowers, she realized as she closed her eyes as tightly as she could, willing the world to vanish… just as her husband had vanished from her life.

* * *

A crack of thunder startled Mrs. Vitello from her dreams. She looked around, hearing the rain pound on the greenhouse. She lifted herself with her cane and examined herself in the glass of the greenhouse. Her hair was grey, her face showing wrinkles and age. She realized that she must have fallen asleep. She rested her hands on her cane, and then she decided something. She hurried as quickly as she could to a bush of red roses and expertly picked a few from the bush. She tied them and put on her jacket, the same one from her dream.

She drove her car to the graveyard, the rain falling over her face like tears as she got out and walked to a headstone. It had fallen slightly over, vines and dirt wearing down the rock while the rain slid down it.

Mrs. Vitello placed the roses under the headstone, her husband's name scrawled into the rock and his birth and death dates underneath those. Mrs. Vitello stared at the stone as she had for years, still longing for her love as the rain fell and mixed with her tears.


End file.
